


petrichor

by themodernquibbler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 07:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23847184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themodernquibbler/pseuds/themodernquibbler
Summary: Luna Lovegood has been missing for three months, two weeks, and three days.Neville Longbottom can’t understand why no one else seems to notice.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	petrichor

Petrichor

day four, 13:42

“It’s Luna, Neville. She’ll be back when the moon is three-tenths full and a new pop sensation seems suspect. That’s just how she is.” Ginny gulped down the remainder of her hot chocolate, an odd choice for a woman her age at the Leaky Cauldron. The summer after the final battle was a month gone and the famous six had been using the time for all it was worth.

In ode to their tumultuous time at Hogwarts, they’d each been offered the option to return to finish out their education, or be awarded honorary degrees. They’d all chosen the latter. Death biting at your heels nonstop for the better part of a decade was a quick teacher. School could hardly prepare them any better. Without worry of preparing for the impending school year, the tired lot had been luxuriating in the opportunity to be young and carefree. The two major pairs - Ginny and Harry, then Hermione and Ron, were tending heavily to their budding relationships. The four of them had varying opinions of Neville and Luna’s relationship, but the whispered, general consensus seemed to be it wouldn’t last.

Neville tried to pretend he didn’t hear, and that it didn’t hurt.

The roots of their romance were ever so tender, and the once awkward young man tried desperately not to over-water them. He took secret pleasure in how elusive Luna was. Never in his life had he had something so unattainable to call his own. His opinion of her was always evolving. The young blonde was both less and more than he expected. She was cultured and sweet. Slow to judge and quick to know. Easy-going, yet she brought change wherever she went.

Yes, she was always running off into the blue. But… not like this.

That’s where the trouble began.

day sixteen, 9:51

The Ministry had tried to recruit them all as Aurors before the smoke had time to settle after the war. Harry and Ron had tentatively agreed, fixing to begin training late fall. Neville was more eager, wanting to get a jump on something for once. Thus, all three of them found themselves gathered in Shacklebolt’s office one cheerful summer afternoon. The Minister was meant to be meeting with them within the hour.

Ron and Harry chatted happily among themselves, not noticing the growing storm cloud above Neville’s head. They were talented and bold, but nothing about them emulated Ravenclaw.

“So, er, mate, how’s Lu then?” Ron tried, vaguely recalling his sister mentioning something about his friend’s eccentric girlfriend being distant. The youngest Weasley son had little talent with women, to that day. His statement was tentative and well-wishing. There wasn’t much advice he could offer if the Lovegood had decided to be done with him. He pitied the bloke, he really did.

“I’ve not seen her in more than two weeks.” Neville put simply.

Harry let out a sharp exhale of breath, flinching. “Did the two of you have a row? I’m sure she just needs some time to calm down.” The young savior was somehow regal, compassionate. All the same, he didn’t know Luna Lovegood half as well as he’d have liked. No one had considered the devastating impact the blood and fire would have on the wildlife of the wizarding world, and the Quibbler had mentioned something weeks before about aiding restoration efforts. Now that he considered it, the publication hadn’t put out a new edition since then. Surely they were preoccupied with therefore-mentioned work. No time to write when you’re wrangling creatures back into their natural habitats.

“No!” The Longbottom exclaimed with a force that shocked them all. His fellow trainees rocked back on their heeled, reeling. Was it that bad? Ron and Harry exchanged a forlorn glance. Poor bloke. _Women_ , right? “I was seeing her every single day and everything was great and then she was gone.”

The ginger of the group swallowed heavily. “Oi, mate. She probably read in her crystals that it was a fine evening for snorkeling and apparated off to Costa Rica. She’ll turn up. It’s Luna. That’s just how she is.”

_That’s just how she is_.

Why did that feel like a curse?

_It’s Luna_.

day 36, 20:19

Xenophilius Lovegood liked his daughter’s boyfriend just fine, really, he did. Neville was a sturdy, wholesome chap who fancied he could be Luna’s rock. A safe, stable, loyal young man who was perfectly sensible in every way. The eldest Lovegood tried not to think about him too much, however, lest he become bored. He’d simply imagined his daughter ending up with someone…well, someone less ordinary.

The sunshine yellow clad man was digging in the garden of the Rook house on a beautiful summer Saturday. He planted rosemary and thyme, basil and tartar. The season of baking pies and communing with shier spirits would be upon them soon enough. Xenophilius did like to be well prepared, as his only child did so love to create masterpieces in the kitchen. She reminded him in Pandora in that sense.

The shuffling of footsteps drew attention to the garden path, signature sliver eyes fixing themselves on the new arrival. The warding around the house had been made so specific upon the renovations that he had no need to worry of it being an unwelcome guest. “Ah! Mr. Longbottom. An unusual joy your presence brings us.”

“Us?” The younger wizard asked, expression hopeful as he scoped out the area.

“Well, myself and the turnips, at least. The garden seems happier when you’re around, that much I’m sure of.” The Lovegood offered the lad a sunny smile, beckoning him closer. “How may I be of aid? I hope you don’t come seeking my darling Luna’s hand, I haven’t the authority to give it!”

“Oh…” Neville began. “Not quite, I was meaning to ask, actually… have you seen Lu lately?” The question seemed odd even as it rolled off his tongue: she lived here, didn’t she?

“Can’t say that I have.” The elder replied, unphased by the information.

“Oh… do you reckon you know where I might find her?”

At that, the Lovegood rose, brushing the dirt from his beige trousers. He examined his beloved child’s suitor for a long moment, raising a shapely brow. In all honesty, he hadn’t the faintest. Xenophilius was unlike most fathers in the sense that he trusted his daughter with his whole heart. In fact, he trusted her far more than he trusted himself. If Luna was nowhere to be found, she was exactly where she was meant to be. They had their little niceties.

He received the odd knick-knack each morning -- a feather, an acorn, a shell, or perhaps an interesting news clipping by way of a signature yellow raven each morning. They came with no note, not even an explanation as to the unusual bird itself, but the tokens were plenty to prove that Luna was out there in the world, safe and contemplative. The presence of her paramour in their garden spoke to the matter that must have been haunting her shortly before her departure.

“Hmm. I believe she said she was off to see a wizard.”

Neville’s heart sprung into his throat. He couldn’t breathe. “We’re both wizards, sir.” He stated blandly, shocked. “Do you…do you reckon there’s someone else?”

Xenophilius only smiled, strolling down the path to clap a hand to the young wizard’s shoulder. “There’s always someone else, Mr. Longbottom. Even now, you look like yourself but you’re someone else entirely.”

Blast the Lovegood’s fanciful way of saying nothing in a great number of words.

“But--” Neville tried again, only be hushed.

“Now, now…” The father began, “I hear the call of an audacious sparrow and I find them to be very good company, we’ll have to continue this conversation another time.” As thought to reaffirm the concept, a bird cawed out in the distant. That was a crow, if Neville had ever heard one.

“...alright.”

The rookie auror left the property despondent and more confused than ever. What wizard? How hard could he be to find that Luna had been gone a month already? The forest of secrets surrounding his summer romance was growing thicker and darker and he feared he may never find his way back to the plains.

day 64, 12:45

“I understand your concern, Neville, but I don’t know what I’m meant to do. Have you tried sending her an owl?” Hermione Granger had outpaced them all, looking regal behind her desk at the Department for the Control and Care of Magical Creatures. Already she was making huge strides in establishing new laws that allowed House Elves far more freedom than they’d ever expected, and the Ministry was alive with gossip about what move she’d make next. The bookish witch adjusted her scrolls, dropping the last file she’d had to review before lunch into the out box.

Neville groaned, head in his hands. “Countless owls, Hermione. They all just stare at me. They have no clue which direction to fly in. She has to be somewhere remote or at least heavily warded. Can’t you just look into it?”

The woman offered him a comforting smile, at a loss. “Luna’s a capable witch, Neville. If she’s scarce, there has to be a good reason for it. I’m sure she’ll be back before you know it. Why don’t you join me for lunch? I was thinking about popping over to the muggle sandwich shop on the other side of the gate.”

“I’m mad for her, Hermione. I would’ve followed her to the ends of the earth, but she just didn’t ask.” The auror lamented, ignoring her inquiry.

“Well…” She replied thoughtfully, “yes. Yes, exactly.” A realization. “And you’d have done it entirely for her, and you’d never have become an auror, and you wouldn’t have your own flat in the village, and you’d be tired, overwhelmed, and likely in mortal peril the better part of every day, from how little mind Luna pays to her own welfare when she’s out questing.”

Blue eyes sought out brown, finding sympathy there. “That’s doesn’t matter to me. I want to be with her.”

“What is Luna, even, if not entirely herself?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“And what are you, if not entirely yourself?”

“Someone else, I suppose.” He recalled Xenophilius’ words distantly.

“Maybe figure out who that person is, and go from there.”

Hermione Granger was truly the brightest witch of her age, and perhaps any other.

But she really did have a way of souring one’s day.

day 92, 18:11

How he’d ended up seated across from Rubeus Hagrid at the half-giant’s massive hut’s table when his intention had been to seek the council of Pomona Sprout, Neville Longbottom couldn’t tell you.

All the same, the groundskeeper was enraptured by the tale the auror told him, of love, loss, and contemplation. Beady black eyes teared up when Neville got to the part about Hermione’s theory. A loud horn like sound filled the hut as the over-empathetic half blood blew his nose into a massive handkerchief.

“That’d be a tale for the ages, that would! The lot of ‘em can boil their heads, love be love!” Hagrid pounded his fist on the table, filled with a righteous fury. Of all those Neville had voiced his concerns to, the half-giant was the most indignant.

“Where do you think she could have gone, Hagrid? I just need to hear her say she’s done with me, that’s all. Then I’ll let the whole thing rest.” The wizard inquired, peering up at his companion hopefully.

“Well…er…” Stubby fingers scratched at a wild mop of tangled locks. “I…can’ say I kno’ the lass.” Hagrid admitted reluctantly, looking ashamed.

“You’ve never met Luna?”

“I’ve met ‘er! Sorta. I’ve seen ‘er loads of times. Friend to the thestrals, she is. Bu’ I can’ say we’ve spoke.” The half giant sunk even more in on himself, embarrassed now. “Never did mix so well with them ‘avenclaws. Too quick for me. Talk ‘emselves round in circles, the lot of ‘em.”

“Luna isn’t like that.” Yes, actually, she was. She was the most like that of any Ravenclaw Neville had ever known, but not in the way he was sure Hagrid meant. The Lovegoods lacked the tell-tale elitism of most Ravenclaws. They were open with their knowledge and explained themselves at length to any that cared to listen.

“Wha’s she like, then, lad?”

Neville thought hard, imagining his girlfriend in his mind’s eye. His accent grew thicker, heavy with emotion. “She’s… smart. Pretty. Sweet. She’s adventurous, and brave, and always knows what to say. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks. If she was a tree, she’d seem like a sapling, but her roots would go for miles. It’s like she’s brand new and ancient at the same time…reckon she doesn’t make much sense, unless you know ‘er. She’s a great painter, baker, dancer, though she doesn’t like dancin’ much. I don’t remember not knowin’ ‘er. Can’t imagine life without ‘er. I feel like the sky would fall if anythin’ happened to ‘er, and not just for me. It’s like she ties the universe together. It’s like she’s part star, part space, and part sea and I’m just... a rock or somethin’. I felt like nothin’ before her. I don’t want to be nothin’ again.”

Hagrid was crying again.

day 112, 24:39

It had been a very long day.

As quickly as he had been inducted into the auror department, he was failing out of it. Neville had passed the exam by the skin of his teeth and while he carried a badge, he couldn’t help but feel he didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t even blame it on being distracted anymore. The girlfriend that only he felt was missing had retired to the back of his mind, a negligible weight hanging from the edge of his psyche. The team had been deployed on a simple mission that day, and the awkward, nervous teen Neville had once been reared his buck-toothed face halfway in.

He’d clammed up, he’d shut down.

Spells had started flying and he’d been absolutely useless. It hadn’t been like war times, where he’d had no other choice. This was menial violence. It’d been a spat about territory that had ended in wands drawn and flayed off limbs scattering the ground of a senile wizard’s farm. They’d been clean up crew, not expecting that the old man’s son would come home during statement taking and be twice as batty as his father. The younger wizard had sent a battery of nasty spells into the thick of the group of aurors and Neville’s partner had to be carted off to St. Mungos to regrow his left foot. The smell of burning flesh gets caught in your nose and takes up residence there.

The job didn’t suit Neville at all, but he wished it did. He wished that’s who he was. Maybe that was the problem. The version of Neville the war had shaped wasn’t sustainable. That Neville led armies and took on deadly magical creatures with just a sword. That Neville fell in love with Luna, and that Neville would have loved to travel the globe with her.

This Neville…well, he was tired. He wanted a warm supper and a soft bed. And a bath, a long, long, long bath.

Dusting the floo powder from his coat, the exhausted wizard strolled out of the fire into his flat. It was dark, silent, save the light from the full moon casting shadows through the high windows. Neville stilled, all at once realizing he wasn’t alone.

“ _Lumos_.” The young man cast, gesturing to a lantern hung in the center of the wall. It sprung to life, illuminating the large sitting room in a soft amber light. Neville’s heart dropped, settling back into his chest after months of living in his throat. All the same, nothing could stop it’s racing.

A woman was sitting cross-legged on his sofa. Porcelain skin looked creamy in the lantern light, large silver eyes were framed by thick, dark lashes, and understated curves were hugged sweetly by a pale blue jumpsuit that cut off at her calves. Her feet were bare, as they often were.

Luna Lovegood was even more lovely than Neville remembered her being.

How that was even possible, he couldn’t tell you.

“Hullo Neville.” Her voice was a summer breeze on a scorching day.

The wizard all but collapsed beside her, folding her up in strong arms. Perhaps she’d been expecting anger, confusion, or contempt, for she stiffened briefly before melting into his arms. The slim blonde let him hold her for what felt like an eternity, and yet it still wasn’t long enough. He forced himself to draw back from her, searching her frame with his eyes, ensuring she was safe and whole.

“...where did you go, Lu?” The wizard choked out, notably not ‘where have you been?’ He didn’t care why she stayed away. All he wanted to know was why she left. What place suited her better than by his side? Broad hands ghosted up and down her arms, clutching to her shoulders tenderly as though to reaffirm that she was truly there.

“Ukraine.” She chimed simply.

He didn’t understand. “What’s in Ukraine?” His voice wavered tragically. “ _Who’s_ in Ukraine?”

“Dead people, mainly, in rather fancy boxes.”

Not being able to help himself, Neville laughed. The humor shook his frame, and he rested his head heavily on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of sage and honeysuckle. It was all so… _Luna_. In that moment, he appealed to the universe, begging it to show him nothing had changed between them. Despite what he felt was a deep betrayal, he was entirely prepared to forgive her anything. “What were you doing in Ukraine, Lu?”

“Waiting for you to give up on me.” There it was.

Bile churned about in his stomach, a sudden sickness so severe he felt dizzy. The statement wasn’t shocking. It equated to what he’d been bracing himself for for months. But now it was real. Now it was happening. And he couldn’t cope. Lifting his head, he frantically searched her face for answers.

“I’ll... try harder. To make you happy. I’m sorry. I don’t--…” He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. The imagined future he’d played out time and time again within his own head was unraveling before him and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it.

Slender fingers interlacing with his own shocked him, though he clutched to them gratefully. That wise silver gave was equally warm, piercing him to his core. “I’m very happy, Neville. And I think you’re quite wonderful.”

“But you don’t want to be with me.” His jaw hurt from clenching his teeth, a headache was building. The tension must have shown in his neck, as Luna cupped his jaw, rubbing soothing circles into the joint below his ear. The touch was welcome, confusing, and comforting all wrapped into one.

“I do, actually.” White teeth bit into the plush of her lower lip, the worrying gesture out of place on her normally serene features. “But you disappeared.”

An incredulous laugh, the slightest hint of anger seeping through. “I disappeared?? You’ve been gone for _months_ , Luna. I was the only looking for you! I never stopped!”

“There you are.” The blonde smiled, a true fondness. “The Lion-Hearted Boy.”

“What?” The flame of his anger sputtered out under the thick oil of confusion.

There was a long silence. “Do you remember…when we went to Hogsmeade and Hannah Abbott was there?”

“What?” The discontent resurfaced, this time laced with self loathing. “You think I’m interested in Hannah Abbott? I haven’t spoken to her since. I’ll-- I’ll write her a letter, I’ll tell her off if you think I gave her the wrong idea!”

“No…listen.” There was no rush to her whimsical tones. Her hand gripped his tighter. “You asked her what she had been doing that summer, and she told you how she had built a cottage on the hill outside the village, and how she was growing a garden, and how she had dogs, a barn cat, and when she baked pies, she’d leave them to cool in the window so she could imagine little children running past the cabbages and smelling them, knowing it was time to come in for supper.”

“...so?” Neville was truly, truly lost now.

Luna released his jaw to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her own ear. “You looked at me and there in your eyes, you were imagining that being us. You were imagining a little house on a hill with a garden and…babies.”

“You…don’t want to have children? I don’t know what you’re saying. I’ll follow your lead. We’ll do what you want to do.” The statement was meant to be reassuring, but even as he said it, he watched something in her frame boil over.

“That’s the problem, _buachail leon_.” Lion-hearted boy, again, this time in Gaelic, as she preferred it. She’d whispered the term to him more than once, usually followed by a stream of giggles. This was different. This was an assertion. “Our dreams don’t fit unless we force them to.”

“I love you.” The statement was helpless, a filler for anything else. An earnest hope that that truth alone would be enough to fix wherever they’d gone wrong.

“I know.” She whispered. “That’s why I left.”

This he hadn’t seen coming. “…because you don’t love me?”

“No. Because I do. I love you. And so I can’t let you fade away the parts of yourself that don’t work for my sake. You’re brave, kind, loyal. You’re selfless. Stunning. I’m not your better half. You’re not half of anything. You are whole, and you are good.” She rested her forehead against his, letting her eyelids flutter closed.

“Then stay with me.” The man’s breath ghosted over her lips as he exhaled the statement, near enough to kiss, and he desperately wanted to.

Luna pulled away. “You’ve worked so hard for so long, to be what everyone wants you to be. You need to rest. Peace is person. And she isn’t me.” The witch unfolded her legs, standing, having spoken her part.

“Luna?”

“Yes?”

“What are you, if not entirely yourself?”

“... _petrichor_.”

\------------------

Neville Longbottom married Hannah Abbott before another summer came. Pomona Sprout showed him how to grow most anything, then passed the gauntlet of Herbology Professor onto him. The smell of death finally stopped haunting him.

The morning of the wedding, a peculiar yellow raven swooped down upon his shoulder, tucking a wildflower into the boutonniere of his grooms jacket. He was the Lion Hearted Boy, the slayer of Nagini, the victor of the snatchers, the almost savior, and he was whole. And though he had not seen her since the night she gifted him peace, he’d always love the smell of the air after it rained.

**Author's Note:**

> J.K. Rowling says Luna & Neville was a fling, but I like to imagine it was two forevers that existed apart from one another.


End file.
